"Stop?"  Abigail turned from the man on the floor who may or may not father children in the future, and looked at the one who'd just drawn his sword.  "Why would I do that, especially now when I'm just getting started?"  It was a serious question.  "Would you ask a race to stop mid-stride, or a bowler to stop right after he's rolled his ball, or a gambler right after he put in every last bit of his life savings on a hand he could almost not loose with?  I don't think you would."  Her right hand moved down to her hip, and there was a tearing sound as she pulled off the piece of fabric that was attached by some Velcro, revealing saber's sheath.  "So now then."  She raised the blade, and took a fighter's stance.  "Your armed, and ready for battle.  So am I.  We can continue, or you, not I, may stop."  

Her eyes shifted slightly to look at the prisoner.  "I doubt your the world's best gunner, but your proficient enough to be confident, which is the best place to start if you'd like to be the best, and that's good enough for me.  Now then, Please sit down and be silent."  She motioned with her blade at the shaking marine.  "I've got to deal with this first, and then there's the matter of the keys."  

She turned her attention back to the marine.  "By the way, do you have a set on you?  If so, leave them here, or we could duel for them."  Abigail smiled, and raised the blade in a salute.  "AFter you young man."